Here at RSA, the only thing black on this Friday is Nauish (pronounced “Now-eesh”), our beautiful young Mustang.
I have said for years that I would rather have a dental root canal than walk into a shopping mall.
Even as a child, I recall the dreaded shopping trip for clothes. Lord how I hated trying things on.
Every summer, our family packed up and headed to Bear Lake, near Manistee, MI for a couple weeks of summer fun at the lake. We’d spend an idyllic few weeks at the cottage; swimming, fancy BBQ’s, boating, catching turtles, sitting on the dock ~ dangling our feet in the water, fishing and traveling by boat to town. Sometimes, even today, when I get a whiff of gas/oil mixture, it takes me back to those warm breezy days in the boat with my Dad running the motor. Every year was bliss, no matter what the weather.
While on vacation, we would always head to Manistee (where I was born) for the 4th of July Parade. My Mom would always try and fit in a shopping trip at the then prestigious Glenn of Michigan. I squirmed and pleaded, but rarely escaped this ritual of girlish indulgence. The dressing room was one large hall. As a youngster (size 6X), being sent behind those curtains, with older women donned in underwear trying on sale items, is an image that has stayed with me to this day.
In later years I still dodged shopping as much as possible. I recall the first time I bought necessary teenage undergarmets ~ I went into the dressing room with my small dog by my side, much to the sales person’s amazement and disgust. My Mom shook her head…realizing a pattern had begun.
Yesterday, on Thanksgiving, while accompanying my snazzy dressed Mother and elegantly dressed Sister-in-Law, Carla, I thought about how “low maintenance” I’ve become over the years.
Everything I had on yesterday: Boots, pants, shirt, sweater vest, and even jacket were from a local Thrift Shop ~ Nifty Thrifty. Come to think of it, everything Rustic Russ had on yesterday: Shirt, Hat (oh yeah, the hat), jacket were also from the Thrift Shop.
The last time I was at a store for clothes was two years ago. I was on my way to a wedding on Mackinac Island. My son Charlie was in the wedding of his dear friend, Ben. I drove up to Petoskey, ran in Wal-Mart, found some pants that fit, tore the tags off, headed to the Laundry Mat, tossed them in the dryer with a wet sock (that I had brought for the occasion) and slipped them on in the bathroom. Back on the road to Mackinaw City, all decked out with my new pants. I’ve never had a hankerin’ to fuss over such things. Never.
So, today, when people were out milling around the stores, I was home, checking out the surroundings in our new dumping of snow with the Zipster.
The feed store was making their scheduled bi-weekly delivery of grains and various critter food, and Rustic Russ was managing the snow with our Fancy Tractor.
And I… was enjoying the solitude, the peace, and quiet, and beauty. My black beauty.
See you tomorrow ~
Woodswoman
